


Who we're meant to be

by suyari



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Red Wedding, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dragons, Incest, M/M, No Underage Scenes, POV Robb Stark, R Plus L Equals J, Robb Stark is King in the North, Soulmarks, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Three Eyed Raven Bran, Very Minor Spoilers for Season 8, direwolves, no red wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 19:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18667132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: “Mother wants to betrothe me,” he manages, though it feels like strangling.“To who?” Jon asks, sliding closer.Robb shrugs, eyes closing as tightly as he can. Tears leak out of the corners and run down over his skin anyway. They stream over his ears and down his neck, slow but constant. “She’s trying to convince Father because…”Jon leans in and presses his brow to Robb’s temple. “Because your soulmate is dead,” he whispers softly.





	Who we're meant to be

**Author's Note:**

> I love Soulmate AUs. I've always wondered though, how a Soulmate AU would work if the soulmark was a person's given name. This happened.

Robb is five years old when he can finally read his soulmark. The name is written in beautiful flowing letters, with extra swirls and two tones of color: a deep, inky black and a rich, dark red. He’d had his suspicions with the colors, of course, but finally managing the words leaves him with an immediate feeling of accomplishment which is swiftly buried under instant grief. 

Jon traces over the letters while Robb sobs in his bed, arms about Jon’s middle and face pressed to his thigh. He knows that having a soulmark means he and his soulmate were alive at the same time once. But, even he knows the fate of the royal family. He is five years old and his soulmate is dead. He never even got to meet him, because Aegon Targaryen was killed long ago, far away. Still, despite how much it hurts, Jon’s fingers tracing the name makes him feel better. He wipes at his eyes and squeezes Jon tighter and asks him if he’s read his own yet. Jon sighs and threads a hand through his hair, petting him softly. It feels nice and Robb closes his eyes with a small hum. Jon reminds him he’s not worthy of a soulmark, that bastards don’t deserve them, because they’re unnatural. Robb reminds Jon that one of the ways bastards are addressed is “natural born” and they lapse into silence. 

Robb is eight years old when he starts to suspect that Jon might have a soulmark after all. They are playing in the Godswood and decide to go swimming. Theon is out of his clothes and into the warm pool first. Robb is half undressed when he sees Jon toying indecisively with his shirt. No matter how much Robb tugs at him and cajoles, Jon will not be moved. Theon teases him from the water. “What’s the matter, Snow? Worried we’ll see your unmarked skin?” he calls. 

Robb doesn’t think it’s very nice, but Theon gets like that sometimes. Jon glares at Theon and yanks his shirt over his head to show him said skin. Robb doesn’t see a soulmark, but there is something else. Jon startles when he touches the livid bruise, scuttling out of the way and nearly tripping over a rock. He refuses to meet Robb’s eyes and when he argues that his bruises are his own business and absolutely denies Robb any information about how he acquired it they get into a fight. 

He climbs into Jon’s bed later with an apology and cuddles close to him. Jon is stiff with hurt at first, but eventually warms to Robb’s arms around him. They fall asleep together and wake up extra warm. Robb tickles Jon until he’s giggling uncontrollably and it makes all of his insides warm to see Jon so happy. He isn’t even bothered when Mother scolds him later for frightening her by being absent from his bed. 

They’re twelve when Robb crawls into Jon’s bed to hide from Mother. Jon doesn’t even roll over, asking only, “What happened now?” from the depths of his pillow. It takes him so long to collect himself that Jon does roll over, blinking at him sleepily. Something in what he sees makes him push himself up and snuggle closer, fingers going to Robb’s soulmark over his shirt and beginning to trace absently. It makes his heart clench and his throat tight even as his body relaxes into the familiar touch. He blinks several times at the ceiling, the sight of it going slowly murky through the tears collecting in his eyes. 

“Mother wants to betrothe me,” he manages, though it feels like strangling. 

“To who?” Jon asks, sliding closer. 

Robb shrugs, eyes closing as tightly as he can. Tears leak out of the corners and run down over his skin anyway. They stream over his ears and down his neck, slow but constant. “She’s trying to convince Father because…” 

Jon leans in and presses his brow to Robb’s temple. “Because your soulmate is dead,” he whispers softly. 

He nods. Taking a moment to wipe at his face, he proceeds to throw both arms about Jon and press his face into his throat. His brother rubs over his back, long calming sweeps that relaxes the tight pull of muscles. His other hand is pressed over Robb’s soulmark as if he could guard his heart for him. 

“Father wouldn’t do that to you,” he assures him in a low rumble. “He’d never force you to marry.” 

“I have to marry,” Robb reminds him. “I’m the heir to Winterfell. It’s my duty.” 

Jon sighs. He says nothing, instead rolling onto his back and drawing Robb close. Their arms wind about each other and Robb rests his head to Jon’s chest. The sound of his heart beating is so steady and sure, it gives Robb hope despite everything. Jon always makes him feel better. In his more sullen moments, Robb often wonders if what he feels when he’s with Jon could ever be eclipsed. Perhaps, he thinks, were his soulmate alive. But, he is not. And Robb will never know the peace of being whole or the joy of being loved so completely. 

He tries not to think about Jon possibly not having a soulmate. He knows the claims that Bastards are markless are just another way to keep them in their place. He has personally seen at least three bastards with soulmarks. He knows it’s all a lie. Still, he can’t help but think that if Jon didn’t have one, then at least they could always be together. No one would ever be able to take Jon away from him. It’s the most comforting thought, and what’s worse is he doesn’t even feel guilty for selfishly wishing such a horror on his beloved brother. 

Robb is a horrible person. But Jon loves him anyway. And that’s enough. 

When they’re fifteen, they’re separated for the first time in their lives. All Robb can think about is Jon. How he is faring. What he is doing. He wishes for nothing more than the ability to go home and see his brother again. It’s only a month. But, by the time they return home and night falls, Jon is waiting for him. Robb closes the door and climbs into his brother’s bed with such urgency that Jon laughs. “It couldn’t have been that bad at Riverrun,” he teases as Robb burrows close, heart pounding. 

“Shut up,” he replies, wrapping all his limbs about his brother. His heart doesn’t start to settle nor his muscles relax until Jon is tracing his soulmark. “I missed you,” he tells him, tangling a hand in Jon’s ridiculously curly hair. 

“I missed you too,” Jon replies. He presses his face into Robb’s hair and they stay coiled together ‘til morning. Robb has learned how to sneak in and out of his room at the optimal time to avoid detection, but as he crawls out of Jon’s bed the next morning, he finds himself losing time just watching Jon sleep. 

He pulls the covers up, tucking the furs high over Jon’s shoulders, even though his brother’s skin is never cold. He smooths back Jon’s hair and has a battle with himself. All he wants to do is climb back into Jon’s bed and stay in his arms for the rest of his life. It strikes him hard, and yet, he finds he wants it so badly, the yearning is nigh unbearable. 

Unfortunately, he fears his mother’s wrath and loves his brother too much to risk being caught. He knows who Mother will blame and he dislikes putting Jon in her crosshairs any more than he usually finds himself. He leans over and kisses Jon’s temple and carries the touch of his skin to his lips for the rest of the day. 

When they’re seventeen, Robb understands what it means to feel the world collapse around him, the ground give way beneath him, and the sky fall down atop him. But neither Mother nor Father will be swayed and Jon is going to leave thinking he has nowhere in the world to claim his own. Robb wants to tell him that he has his entire heart and soul, all to himself. That he will never even have to share them with anyone, because Robb’s soulmate is dead and gone. That he will be faithful and loyal and true to him and love him above all others until the day he dies. He wants to tell him to wait. To go somewhere else for a few years. To not go where Robb cannot follow. 

“The next time I see you, you’ll be all in black,” he says instead. 

Jon smiles. “It was always my color.” 

“Farewell, Snow.”

“And you, Stark.”

Robb’s hands grab Jon of their own volition and drag him close. His arms wrap around him in a strangling grip that Jon returns just as fiercely. 

Robb knows what it feels like to see the end of the world. Knows that even without the vows, Jon could die so easily in service to the Wall. Die and leave him all alone. Just like his soulmate. 

He looks his brother in the eyes and feels a thousand pleas rise into his throat. He wants to rage. Wants to scream. Wants to beg him not to go. Has to clench his teeth together to keep his grief to himself. Has to force his feet to move, to turn his back so he doesn’t have to see the way Jon doesn’t truly want to go. So he doesn’t have to admit he could probably make him stay if he just told him the truth. Jon was the very heart of him. If Robb were to ever imagine his soulmate alive, he didn’t think he could love him more than he loved Jon. Walking away feels like dying. He does it anyway. 

He never asked for anything his life has provided for him. He didn’t want a crown. Didn’t want to win accolades for avenging unexpected horrors. If his soulmate had lived, Robb would have ended up with a throne. He finds it odd to have one without him. 

Of course, the North doesn’t really have a throne. It doesn’t make the weight of the crown any lighter. The North is free and they have spilt more blood than he will ever be comfortable admitting - even to himself. For the first time in three hundred years the North is as it was. Robb hates every moment of it. 

He has his family back, but the wars have taken their toll. Sansa will not marry. She spooks at unexpected touches and wears as much black as a brother of the Night’s Watch. He wonders sometimes if she were a man, if she would have made for the wall and never returned. If she could have found happiness at the edge of the world with Jon. He knows he could have. 

Arya is cold and distant. She’s no longer the happy, trusting child who had ridden out with Father all those years ago. There’s a darkness to her now, a deep, private space where she hides herself and lets no one breach. There is blood on her hands. She is neither shy nor repentant about it. She wears her blood marks like badges of honor. 

If Arya is distant, Bran may as well be on the other side of the planet. He is quiet as he never was and when he speaks it is always in riddles. Rickon is as much the same and equally as different. He’s somehow wilder and yet more focused than ever before. 

They are an odd, miss matched bunch. Robb knows they’ve all changed, but no matter how much he wishes to, he cannot seem to revive the happy family they once were. Mother has stopped trying to reach them with the fierceness she has always relied on. It no longer works and they no longer accept her attempts to control them. Robb respects their strength as he mourns the relationships they’d all once shared. There is nothing he can do. 

He thinks often that they are so broken because they are not complete. They haven’t been complete in years. They will not be complete until Jon returns. Robb considers writing the Night’s Watch and ordering Jon home. His brother is the Lord Commander, but Robb is the King in the North. He likes to think Jon will not deny him. But he never writes. He knows there is only one thing he truly fears now and he is too much of a coward to put his heart at risk. 

They receive the raven from Dragonstone, but Robb has learned his lesson. Riding South never fares well for members of his family, and they will not return. He does not go to Dragonstone. Does not treat with the Dragon Queen. Finds himself inexplicably angry that she should be alive and his soulmate gone. He cannot - even for his soulmate - support the last living Targaryen. Not after everything he’s lost. 

Weeks go by. The North remains much as it ever was. Until the day dragon shadows swallow up the countryside. Robb calls his banners and waits with an army he knows he will lose at Winterfell. He does not know how they will survive. Is not sure how to go about battling dragons. If he will have to bend the knee so his people will live, just as his ancestor did so long ago. 

The thunder of thousands of hooves and the rhythmic stomp of a massive army marching across the North echoes all around them. Bran tells him he has nothing to worry about. Arya assures him they will not let Winterfell fall again. Rickon scares the very life from him by disappearing for three whole days in a secret scouting mission that only puts more fear into the hearts of his people when he reports what he’s seen. 

Robb stands outside of Winterfell. Grey Wind at his side. His army at his back. He is wearing his crown and his sword, but in his heart, he knows he will lose them today. If he lives, he decides, he will ride for the wall. He does not mean to abandon his family or his people, but it will not be abandonment if he offers his life in service that they not be held accountable for his sins. And he will finally see Jon again. His heart feels less heavy at the thought. He finds, he is actually looking forward to surrendering. To laying down his sword at the Dragon Queen’s feet and handing her his crown and taking the black. 

He watches the dragons approach and feels his breath catch. He has never seen a more impressive animal in all his life. As if hearing his thought, Grey Wind shifts beside him with a low growl. Robb laughs to himself and reaches out to scrub behind his ear. 

One moment Grey Wind is beside him and the next he is charging forward. Summer and Shaggy Dog race behind him. Robb wants to cry out, to call them back. Hopes they will not be killed by the Dragon Queen’s people. That the North will not be held accountable for the launch of attack taken wholly independently by a small pack of Direwolves. 

Just as Robb is despairing that it is all over, they stop and dance about in a circle. A circle of noses and wolf feet and swaying tails. A circle of _four_ Direwolves. Robb feels his spirits soar. For that is Ghost out there with them. What he thought to be a preeminent charge was simply them acting on the desire they have all felt for some time. Robb knows his are not the only eyes drinking in Ghost; scanning the surrounding area for Jon. 

He almost doesn’t look when the dragons roar, but the tremble of the earth when they land merit all due attention. Robb thought he would be greeted with the form of a woman with light hair and unmistakable eyes. He was _expecting_ a Targaryen Queen. But the rider of the Green Dragon, currently looking at them as it lowers its shoulders to aid it’s rider off is all in black. He stands in the snow, reaching up and stroking the Dragon’s muzzle. It makes a sound not unlike a cat, if cats were the size of ships. The man chuckles and pats it fondly and Robb’s entire being freezes in place. He knows that sound. Has heard it only in dreams, haunting him for years now. 

“Jon?” he hears Arya call. The man turns around and Arya runs toward him with a joyful cry. “Jon!!” 

Jon is prepared. He scoops her up and swings her around and holds her so tightly, Robb can feel his own chest constrict. They walk back toward them. The King in the North can do nothing but watch, for his legs refuse to move. Sansa rushes into Jon’s arms the moment he is close to them. Jon holds her just as close as he did Arya. He leans back to smooth her hair back and kiss her forehead. Bran is next. 

“Look at you,” Jon says. “You’re a man!” He drops to his knees and draws Bran close, kissing his brow as well, though he lingers. Jon had left not knowing whether or not Bran would live. Has had to carry the weight of not knowing, of not seeing with his own eyes all these years. Robb has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat. 

Rickon surprises him the most. He did not think Rickon had any memories of Jon. But Rickon launches himself at their brother, hands fisting in his furs and his hair. Draws him down until their brows touch. They stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment and Robb is further surprised that it does not seem to be an odd greeting to Jon. When they hug, they are both laughing. 

The Dragon Queen is walking toward them. Robb is aware of her peripherally. Jon and Rickon part and Jon turns to him. The smile he gives him is both shy and sweet, as if he does not know of his welcome, but hopes to be welcome anyway. Robb’s entire being wants to grab Jon and kiss him. To show him just how welcome he is, how very much he's been missed. He’s aware that isn’t the best course of action, however. So, when Jon reaches for him, he hugs him close and buries his face into his neck and breathes for what feels like the first time in ten years. Jon ducks his own head and they stand there for time immeasurable. 

Jon lets go of him to tuck his hand between them. Robb can feel his fingers tracing his soulmark through his armor. It burns the name into his heart, his blood catching fire. His own fingers grip the back of Jon’s neck and flex. They step apart, but get no further than the width of their own chests. 

“Aegon,” says a voice Robb has never heard before. “Is this your Robb?” 

The world seems to tilt. Or maybe he has been shot with an arrow or run through with a sword. Jon’s arm slides around his shoulders and he turns to smile behind him. “Aye,” he replies, turning back to look at him again. Jon reaches up and brushes back some of his hair, finishing in a low voice, “This is my Robb.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Daenerys Targaryen says with a small smile that makes Robb wonder if _she_ is nervous of meeting _him_. 

“Aegon?” Sansa echoes in confusion. 

“It’s Jon’s real name,” Bran replies. 

Robb’s eyes snap up to meet Jon’s. 

“He’s not our brother,” he hears his brother say through the drums taking up residence around him. “He’s not even a bastard. He’s the true born son of our Aunt Lyanna and Rhaegar Targaryen.” 

Robb wonders rather hysterically, how long Bran has known and not said anything. 

“What?!” Arya replies. 

“Robert Baratheon would have murdered him. Father promised Aunt Lyanna he would protect him. So he disguised him as his Bastard.” 

“But that would make Jon…” Sansa’s own voice seems to be in line with the one in Robb’s head. 

“The last living male heir to the Targaryen dynasty,” the Dragon Queen replies. “The true heir to the Iron Throne.” 

“Which we took back from Cersei last month,” Jon says, eyes holding Robb’s. Robb can’t be sure what he’s seeing, or what Jon’s seeing reflected in his own. Their entire lives… 

“ _Aegon_ ,” Robb chokes out. “Aegon _**Targaryen**_.” 

Jon smiles. He takes a step back and turns around. Robb watches him gather his hair in a fist. He pulls it up away from his skin and there...there sits his soulmark. There, on Jon’s skin, hidden by his hair and ringing the base of his head are the most beautiful words Robb has ever had the privilege to read: _Robb Stark_.

The laugh that bursts from his chest is not the sanest, he knows. But it heralds the release of the very constraints of his entire life. He feels light, as if he could float away at any moment. He is dizzy and unsteady on his feet. None of it matters. He has spent his entire life mourning a soulmate he thought long dead while loving him with all of himself every moment. 

There will be time to trace it later. To learn the curves and dips of his own name on Jon’s skin. To familiarize himself with it so he can etch it across Jon’s very being with the slightest twitch of his fingers. And he will. Before that however, there is the minor detail of having never known his soulmate’s kiss. 

Robb corrects that in front of all the living North. He has never been happier than he is in this moment. Jon’s eyes however, promise him nothing but joy for the rest of their lives. His dearest wish is that they live for a very, very long time. 

He’ll get used to the crown.


End file.
